


years & years, immeasurable

by imperialhare, Yellow



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, contains an explicit illustration, just some tender boning, samot is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 16:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialhare/pseuds/imperialhare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellow/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: samothes is going to be gone for quite a while. samot understands, but he doesn't have to like it.





	years & years, immeasurable

**Author's Note:**

> for the dark twitter fic/art exchange with linda imperialhare....here you go, like 4 months late
> 
> erin wrote and I did the artwork! watch out for the sexually explicit illustration lmao don't open this at work - imperialhare

Samot barely looks up when Samothes pushes through the door to their bedroom.

His bedroom, really. It’s been here in the volcano since Samothes built his forge, hewed rooms out of rock and came home to Samot sweating. But Samot’s rooms are cold, he says, no matter how many fireplaces Samothes builds him; they’re echoey, no matter how many furs are on the floors.

“Your room is so much more comfortable, husband,” Samot always says, and Samothes hides a smile.

“Then perhaps we should switch,” Samothes says, straight-faced, and Samot huffs, and Samothes asks him what’s the matter, and Samot pulls him down onto the bed, laughing.

Today, Samot is spread out on the bed, fucking himself on two fingers.

Samothes stops short in the doorway. Samot finally raises his head, as if Samothes had found him reading.

“Hello, husband.”

Samothes licks his lips.

“And this is the way you’re going to greet me as I come to say goodbye?”

“If you’re going to leave me for so long, I best prepare myself for the people I’m going to take into my bed.”

Samothes quirks the corner of his mouth up.

“And this happened to be the time and place?”

Samot raises his chin and makes eye contact before snapping his hips down and moaning, breathy. Samothes takes a long breath, looks at the way Samot’s dick is flushed, laying on his stomach.

Samot smirks at him.

Samothes walks to Samot in three long strides and pins his free hand to the bed.

“I can think of better uses for that mouth,” he says, quiet.

Samot bites his lip, brief, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. His fingers clench and unclench.

Samothes pushes open his robe and pulls Samot up to fall forward onto his knees. Samot goes, easy. He’s smiling, just a little.

Samothes fists a hand in Samot’s hair and moves to push his dick into his mouth, but Samot is strong and fast-he lurches forward, swallowing Samothes’s dick down, fluttering his lashes.

Samothes shudders and pulls him back, bodily, by the hair.

“This is a privilege,” Samothes growls. Samot smiles wider, sweet.

“Yes, my Lord,” he intones, and opens his mouth, eyes dancing.

Samothes pushes into him and Samot moans, showy. Samothes holds his hair tight and fucks into his mouth. Samot relaxes around him until he’s taking all of Samothes, eyes closed, moving where Samothes pulls him.

Samot licks at his dick where he can, and Samothes pulls Samot off him, shuddering.

“Stop it,” he says, taking deep breaths. He’s close. “You know I intend to fuck you.”

Samot blinks up at him, mouth red and tears in his eyes. He licks his lips.

“You taste good, husband,” he says, stroking his hands up Samothes’s chest. Samothes shivers. His hand in Samot’s hair loosens, just a little, and Samot leans forward to kiss his neck.

“Bitter like fine wine,” he says, crawling into Samothes’s lap. “Do you think that my followers taste sweet?”

Samothes pulls Samot close to him, so that his ear is right next to Samothes’s mouth.

“Samot,” he said, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

Samot laughs, breathless.

“Then get to it,” he says, fond, and Samothes kisses him, soft, right under his ear. Samot takes a long breath, and Samothes feels his heart flutter, just as it has for years and years immeasurable. He holds Samot a moment longer than he means to. He smells of pine.

 

Then Samothes remembers himself and tips them forward, Samot’s legs tangled around his waist. Samot’s back hits the bed and he reaches up for Samothes. Samothes pins his wrists.

“So strong, husband,” Samot says, lips curling. He wiggles his fingers, as if considering whether to break free.

“Keep them there,” Samothes growls, and Samot smirks at him, but stays in place when Samothes lets go.

 

He takes a moment to just wonder at his husband, blond hair gold against the white sheets. Samot meets his gaze, steady. His chest rises and falls, back slightly arched. There’s a bead of precome on his dick. Samothes grabs at his hips.

He’s overwhelmed by Samot’s little gasp, he’s overwhelmed by the way he arches his back, he’s overwhelmed by the way Samot’s skin turns white where his fingertips press into his flesh.

“Turn over,” he says, catch in his throat.

Samot does it, languid. The muscles in his back tense and relax. Samothes swallows.

He starts fucking Samot with a finger, then two, then three. Samot sighs when he adds the third.

“How long were you fucking yourself, waiting for me?” Samothes asks, leaning down close to Samot’s ear. He groans, low.

“Long enough,” Samot says, and laughs, breathy. Samothes takes his hand away and Samot groans, throws his head back. His arms are still stretched out in front of him. Samothes kisses the tense spot between his shoulders and lines himself up. He pushes into Samot, hands tight on his hips. He shivers.

Samot laughs again, high, and trails off into a gasp as Samothes fills him.

“Husband,” he says, voice just barely shaking.

Samothes pulls out, just enough to snap Samot’s hips up and thrust back in at a deeper angle. Samot braces himself on the bed and Samothes doesn’t care to correct him, just fucks him into the mattress hard, his long hair spilling over his shoulders and onto the pillow.

His hands fit so well on Samot’s hips, he notices, gripping even tighter.

“You’d let me do whatever I wanted, when you’re like this,” Samothes breathes.

Samot turns his head, just so, panting. He smiles, quick.

“Not anything.”

Samothes thrusts into him again and Samot moans.

“Husband,” he says, hands fisted in the sheets.

“You think you deserve to come?” Samothes snaps his hips and shudders. He’s close, too.

“Yes,” Samot gasps. “Yes, husband, please.”

Samothes comes, sudden, fingernails pressing into the soft skin of Samot’s stomach. With his other hand he gropes for Samot’s dick, and with two easy strokes Samot comes with a cut-off groan.

Samothes falls to the bed beside him and hides his face in Samot’s hair.

 

Samot comes to himself slowly, and cleans them up, taking more time than usual. Samothes watches him, rubs his thumb across Samot’s lower lip. Samot looks up at him.

“Do not doubt that I will miss you,” Samothes says.

“How could you not?” But he kisses Samothes’s thumb and lies back down, and Samothes is able to bury his head in the crook of Samot’s neck and breathe him in, just a little while longer.


End file.
